In Doublet and Hose Part 8

THE DELIVERY OF THE LETTERS

Will was disposed to be taciturn on the way to Chartley. Francis did not know whether he suspected her design was more than to see Mary or not, but summoning all the finesse of which she was mistress she made herself as agreeable as she could, relating stories and incidents of the chase, until long before the plain which lay between Stafford and Chartley was crossed, Will's surliness had vanished.

The sun was an hour high when they reached their destination. Chartley, grim and gray in the morning light, rose before them. The manor was large and roomy, surrounded by such a high wall that none, unless he were endowed with the wings of a bird, could scale its heights. A moat encompa.s.sed the whole. The castle with wall and moat forming a stronghold well suited to its present use as prison.

As they crossed the drawbridge and entered the portals Francis was surprised to see sentinels everywhere. Her spirit sank a little and her heart quailed as she noted all of the means employed to insure Mary's safe-keeping.

"My father was right," she thought. "To obtain entrance is not all. There will still be difficulty, I fear, in seeing her. What if she comes not to the garden? But courage! Poor lady! I marvel not that she doth wish to gain her liberty. Methinks I should die were I to be deprived of my freedom!" Thus she mused little dreaming that not many weeks would elapse ere she would be put to the test.

"There are the gardens," said Will breaking in upon her thoughts. "'Tis there that I have often seen the queen. See, the guard is leaving."

"Don't they guard her through the day, Will?"

"Ay, master. But the sentinels stand not at the doors and windows as they do at night. The walls only are guarded through the day. There she is, forsooth."

"I see her not, good Will."

[Ill.u.s.tration: _QUEEN MARY'S WIT GRASPED THE SITUATION_]

"In the main garden, master. To the right."

Francis looked in the direction indicated and soon descried the form of a woman seated in a large rolling chair which was wheeled by an attendant.

Along the walks of the garden they went pausing ever and anon to pluck some flower or the cherries which were ripening in the sun. For a moment only Francis gazed and then, before Will had time to say her nay, she leaped off from the wagon and bounded swiftly in the direction of the garden.

"Uds!" growled Will his mouth agape with astonishment. "Methought there was more to 't than appeared," and he went on to the kitchens.

Meantime Francis, trampling over flowers and vegetables in her haste, reached the side of Mary, and thrust into her hand the package of letters. Mary's quick wit grasped the situation instantly. Concealing the papers about her she drew back from the seeming carter, crying in a loud voice for she saw one of the guards approaching:

"Well, what meaneth this? Forgive me," she whispered hurriedly, "if I seem angry. 'Tis but for thine own safety." So saying she drew back still further from the kneeling girl exclaiming as the guard came up, "I know thee not, boy. Why dost thou trouble me?"

"I wished to see thee," murmured Francis rising. "Forgive me. I wished----"

"There!" said Mary. "'Tis no matter. Barbara," to her companion, "hast thou the purse? Give the lad a groat. Marry! thou art all alike. Ye wish bounty whether ye deserve it or not. Go, and trouble me no more."

She turned as she spoke and without another glance at the girl pa.s.sed back to the house. Francis stood looking at the coin for a moment undecided what to do for she saw that Will's cart was nowhere in sight.

"Get thee gone," said the guard coming toward her menacingly. He had overheard Mary's remarks and noted her demeanor, and thought that the carter lad before him was really seeking to profit by Mary's well-known generosity. "Go, fellow! or I will take thee to my master. And if thou troublest the lady again, I will run thee through with my rapier. Go!"

Without a word in reply, glad to have the matter end so, Francis followed him meekly as he led her to the kitchen doors where Will and other carters were busy unloading their wagons.

"With which of you came this fellow?" demanded the guard.

"With me, master," spoke Will sullenly.

"See that he accompanies thee no more. 'Tis a mischievous wight and like to get into trouble. Quick with thy load. I wish to see thy cart safely beyond the gates."

"Will," said Francis when they were once more outside the gates, "art angry with me?"

"Ay! 'twere an ill turn that thou did serve me," growled Will. "'Twere an ill turn, master."

"Forgive me, and you shall have this groat that the queen gave me," and Francis handed him the coin. "My lord, I know, will give me more to give thee."

"Well, mayhap it be all right," said Will somewhat mollified, "but you go no more, young master."

"No, Will; I will not ask it of thee. I have both seen and spoken with the lady. What more need I?"

"No more, I'll be bound, master," growled Will. "There was more in't than seeing and speaking, I'll warrant. But I ken none of it. Here we are at Stafford, master."

"I thank you, Will, for your courtesy," said Francis sweetly as she left him.

Lord Stafford was awaiting her return anxiously. He folded her close to his breast as she entered his chamber, saying earnestly:

"Thank Heaven, my daughter, that thou hast returned safely to me. Not for all the queens in the world would I have thee adventure such a thing again."

"Why, 'twas naught," laughed the girl. "Mary hath the letters now. 'Twas not hard to give them after all." She recounted the whole affair.

"Well hast thou done, my child. There will need to be further communication with Mary, but not from us. We have done our part. No more of plots or conspiracies will I have, and never again will I subject thee to such danger. Now we will wend homeward to allay the anxiety of thy mother. Whenever I have need of a quick wit and a nimble brain I will call on thee."

"Glad am I to have pleased thee," returned Francis. "There is naught that I would not undertake for thee, my father."

"I believe it, Francis."

The next morning early they set forth on the return journey. Lord Stafford seemed to have thrown aside the weight of misgiving that had oppressed him on his way thither, and was full of the gayest spirits.

With laughter and story did he beguile the way, and once as he jestingly spoke of her attire, he said laughingly,

"Listen, Francis, and I will tell thee of another such an one. Hast thou ever heard how the serving man became a queen?"

"The serving man a queen?" cried the girl. "Why how could that be, father?"

"Listen, and you shall hear." In a rich full voice he trolled the following ballad:

THE FAMOUS FLOWER OF SERVING MEN

"You beauteous ladyes, great and small, I write unto you one and all, Whereby that you may understand What I have suffered in the land.

"I was by birth a lady faire, An ancient baron's only heire, And when my goode old father died Then I became a young knight's bride.

"And then my love built me a bower, Bedecked with many a fragrant flower; A braver bower you ne'er did see Than my true love did build for me.

"And there I lived a lady gay Till fortune wrought my love's decay; For there came foes so fierce a band, That soon they overran the land.

"They came upon us in the night, And rent my bower and slew my knight; And trembling hid in man's array, I scarce with life escaped away.

"Yet though my heart was full of care, Heaven would not suffer me to despair; Wherefore in haste I changed my name From fair Elise to Sweet Williame.

"And then withal I cut my hair, Resolv'd my man's attire to wear; And in my beaver, hose and band, I travel'd far through many a land.

"At length all wearied with my toil, I sate me down to rest awhile; My heart it was so filled with woe, That down my cheeks the tears did flow.